


do you even remember why you liked writing?

by presidentbees



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Drabble Collection, Object Head, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), angst and a ton of knives, oh boy that's a lot of OCs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 09:45:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12909357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/presidentbees/pseuds/presidentbees
Summary: 80% angst with my most murderous OCs, 10% drunk fluffy shenanigans, and 10% misc character interactions from across all of my OC universes in order to get myself out of my writing funk. This started as me wanting to write angst for my cultist universe, so please don't be surprised by the content.





	do you even remember why you liked writing?

“Do you even remember what you liked doing before all of this?” Dria asked. “You couldn’t have always been a cultist -- so what were you like before? What were your hobbies?” 

Dria opened the bag of Taco Bell, pulling out wrapped tacos and napkins and setting them down beside her. She was careful not to set anything to close to the 7-pointed heptagram in front of her. It had taken her hours to paint the symbols correctly, and some of the lines still weren’t dry. 

In the center of the room, Bonnie sat on the floor, arms and legs tethered to the stakes that Dria had nailed into the floor. His eyes had gone completely white and milky tears streamed down his cheeks -- revealing the evil that Dria knew was living inside of Bonnie. 

“P-please,” Bonnie begged. “Just let me go. I won’t t-tell anybody.” 

Dria just sighed, sitting on the floor. She took her time with eating her food; now that she had Bonnie contained, there wasn’t much else for her to do but wait. 

“Remember, you chose this, Bo, not me.”

 

* * *

 

Sitting in the mess of his wrecked room, Bonnie clutched at his hair and screamed. Tears streamed down his cheeks and the sound of his own high-pitched voice stabbed daggers into his head, but he couldn’t stop. Heaving, he took a second to collect his breath before starting again into a seemingly unending wail as a last ditch effort to get it out of his system. 

He’d fucked up. Finally he’d gone too far and it was all catching up with him -- Bonnie wretched and tried to vomit, but nothing came up but a dribble of bile. The twisting, coiling snake inside of his gut squeezed tighter at the disturbance and Bonnie yelped in pain, driving a fist into his stomach to make it stop. 

Bruises and cuts covered Bonnie’s body and he knew he looked terrible. Dragging himself up off the floor, Bonnie tried to stumble to the kitchen -- maybe if he could get a knife, he could cut it out -- but as he passed through the living room. The front door of his apartment opened. 

“Bo?” Dria said, confused. “Dude, what the fuck happened?”

 

* * *

 

Bonnie flinched back as blood splattered across his face, the fat flecks dotting his cheeks like a new layer of freckles. “Oh, fuck! Ew! Dria c’mon, don’t be gross.”

Dria fought against her bonds, sucking her cut lips and collecting another mouthful of blood. The front of her white uniform was completely soiled with blood and vomit -- not that it mattered in the end -- and Bonnie had taken the time to Dria’s hair back so that it didn’t get in the way. 

With a shrill yell, Bonnie brought up the edge of his cloak to deflect the ball of spit and blood. “Just let me do my job and this will all be over!” 

“Fuck you!” Dria spat, her teeth stained red. “I should’ve never trusted you, you fucking creep.” 

Bonnie circled around behind Dria’s chair, bringing out the dagger from underneath his cloak. The candlelight cast weird shadows across his face, making it impossible to know if he was smiling or grimacing. “Just hold still!”

 

* * *

 

“Awww,” Andrés crooned, crushing Dria’s hand underneath her boot. “Aren’t you a treat -- if you sing me a song, I can make this much easier.” 

Pushing her full weight on Dria’s outstretched hand, Andrés didn’t stop until she felt something crack. Pain flashed across Dria’s face and she bit her lip until it bleed, but Dria didn’t give Andrés the satisfaction of hearing her scream.

 

* * *

 

“With th-this sacrifice, I give this soul t-to my patron.” Bonnie’s hands shook as he lifted the knife over Dria’s unconscious form. 

Dria was spilled across the couch, mouth hanging open as she clutched at a throw pillow. Pan-Pan was at her feet, his long, feline body draped across his owner’s legs and feet. On the floor, Dria’s laptop was still open, an open Google Doc with her unfinished paper on it. She and Bonnie had been talking about it earlier and he’d offered to help her but--

Tears spilled down Bonnie’s cheeks and he tried to will himself to put the knife down, but the pressure in his head just kept building and he knew he was out of options. 

‘You must do it. Finish the ritual.’ -- ‘feed us.’ -- ‘she was terrible anyway.’

From his spot, Pan-Pan watched as Bonnie brought the knife down on Dria once -- twice -- three times. Blood splashed the beige apartment walls, and Pan-Pan yawned. Tomorrow, he would reset everything back to how it had been. 

It was January 20th, 2015 for the third time. In the future, this would all become easier for Bonnie, and Dria would become quicker to notice the signs -- Pan-Pan couldn’t wait,

 

* * *

 

The traveler cupped her hands around the whistle, demonstrating for the spiderling. “Put your hands around the whistle, like so, and make sure to leave enough space for the air to escape when you blow into it like this.” 

The traveler brought the whistle up to her face, blowing into the mouthpiece and a low, mournful wail reverberated through the desert. Adjusting her hands, the wail sharpened into a piercing cry, like a feral animal’s scream, before trailing off into a deathly rattle. The traveler smiled, slightly winded from the trick, before passing the whistle over to the spiderling. “Your turn.” 

Carefully, the spiderling took the whistle, admiring the details in the dying firelight. The emblem of a bird had been etched into the surface, and the spiderling ran its fingers over the bird’s unnaturally large eyes. 

‘Magnificent,’ it said, looking at the traveler. ‘Where from?’ 

The traveler shifted, avoiding the spiderling’s eyes. “It’s from much farther north, near where the mountains start. They use the whistle to scare away the predatory birds that roost in the trees so that they don’t swoop down and try to carry people away,” she paused, “or that’s what I’ve heard. I’ve never actually seen it for myself.” 

The spiderling looked blankly at the traveler -- since the two of them had met, its face hadn’t shifted out of the passive expression. The traveler had been acquainted with many different types of people, and the occasional sentient monster, but the spiderling struck her as deeply unnerving in a way that she couldn’t pinpoint. 

Adjusting its legs, the spiderling settled deeper into the sand. Then with a deep breath, it blew into the whistle, emitting a high pitched scream. It spiraled into the air, seemingly endless as the spiderling continued to play. Its fingers danced over the beak of the bird, causing the scream to pitch and keen wildly until the noise finally dropped off. 

The traveler removed her hands from her ears, looking at the spiderling with horrified wonder. Its face had moved just slightly, a small smile playing across its thin lips. 

‘Mesmerizing.’

 

* * *

 

Silas Stone breathed out a slow sigh, watching as his breath misted in the freezing air. Sitting beside him, Tag was looking up at the stars, a small smile playing across her scarred features.  
The two of them were far enough away from the town that they could clearly see the night sky without the interference of any lights. 

“You probably see this a lot, don’t you?” Silas Stone said. “With living in the woods and all.” 

Tag just hummed in response. A cold wind swept through the clearing, ruffling the fur of Silas Stone’s coat. Tag was wearing a plain, spring outfit with a cloak thrown over it -- much too light for the freezing weather. 

“Aren’t you cold?” Silas Stone asked curiously. He was young, with no sense of politeness and full of questions for his friend.

Lifting a her pale hands up to her face, Tag loudly exhaled before moving her hands away to show Silas Stone -- there was no misty breath held in her hands. Her hands didn’t shake from the cold, nor were her fingertips turning gray-blue. 

Silas Stone’s eyes widened, looking at Tag with curiosity. “How do you do that?” 

Tag just smiled and shrugged, turning back to look at the sky.

 

* * *

 

“You should feel special. I’m experimenting.”

With a practiced hand, Silas Stone slowly inserted a needle into the crook of Jasper’s arm. His veins were easy to find -- Silas Stone knew for a fact that a solid beating beforehand allowed the veins to open up more, making the next part both easier and more enjoyable. 

“What’s happening here is that I’m giving you a hallucinogenic. Fast acting, of course, and enough to kill a man, so we're going to have to see who gets to you first. Me, or the drugs -- if you want to know my opinion, I think it will be me.” Silas Stone continued to talk, walking back to where he had left his leather bag. “In a minute, the real magic is going to begin. I just have to find my-- ah, there it is.” 

Silas Stone took a moment to unfold the straight razor, watching as Jasper’s pupils dilated in fear; it was one of the main reasons why Silas Stone avoided the eyes when roughing people up. 

“Devil,” Jasper breathed.

It was the first word that he’d spoken. Even when Silas Stone had been beating him, Jasper had remained completely silent. Now, the drugs were beginning to take effect. Jasper’s breathing was beginning to quicken. The veins in his neck were practically popping out of his skin, and a bead of sweat trickled down his face. 

“You're...a devil,” he repeated again.

Silas Stone laughed aloud. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

 

* * *

 

Malaii flinched away as the cold scissors brushed her ear. Mother Dynah’s free hand came up, baping the back of Malaii’s head. 

“Stay still,” Mother Dynah commanded, “or else your hair will be uneven.” 

Rolling her eyes, Malaii forced herself to sit still as she watched strands of her hair float to the floor. It was the same color of the red flowers that came from Mother Dynah’s desert plants, the same color of the dying sunset, and bird feathers, and fire. 

For as long as Malaii had been aware, she’d never seen another person with hair in the same color as hers. There were similar shades in orange and yellow, but Malaii had never seen anybody with the same intense red. 

Tucking a strand of silver hair behind one ear, Mother Dynah stepped back to admire her work. Without her curtain of hair to hide behind, Malaii’s owlish eyes looked comically large. She was gangly, all bones and awkward limbs, and Malaii’s new, shaved head made her appear more birdlike than usual.

“Perfect,” said Mother Dynah, patting her daughter on the back.

 

* * *

 

Ronnie stared at Agnes in horror, the space slowly being lit by Preston’s pilot light. She was sitting against a tree, knees pulled tight against her chest as she stared at the dark forest.

As the pair drew closer, she finally looked up, the dark circles under her eyes giving her skeletal look in the dim light. There was a spot of blood on her face, as if she’d reached up to brush the hair from her eyes with a gore covered hand. Her bloody knife was still gripped tightly in both hands and Ronnie fleetingly wished that they’d thought to bring a weapon. 

“I did it,” she said hollowly. “Why didn’t you stop me from doing it.”

 

* * *

 

Aurora walked into the ocean. The water rose up around her waist, weighing the heavy fabric of her clothes down. She thought about how easy it would be easy for her to just keep walking blindly into the ocean -- to let the water rise above her head as she sank into darkness. 

Maybe she would float for a bit -- that wouldn’t be too bad. The thing about being blind was that when she was suspended in the water, it felt like she was dreaming. It would be nice to just float and sink into a long, peaceful dream. 

An icy wave hit her in the chest and Aurora stumbled back, shocked out of her daydream. Her hands instinctively reached out to grab support, but just slapped at the water's surface. Her heart pounded in her chest as she steadied herself, realizing what she had been about to do. 

‘I can’t do that,’ she thought to herself. ‘Floss is coming back with coffee and he doesn’t know how to swim. He wouldn’t be able to get my body.’ 

Another wave struck her chest, splashing into her face. Aurora spluttered and turned around, beginning to walk back in the direction of the shore. The waves pulled at her clothing, only to come slamming into her back moments later. Aurora stumbled, and as she stepped forward, her foot seared with pain as something slashed the bottom of her heel. 

Reflexively, Aurora lifted up her foot, just as a wave crashed into her back, sending her face forward into the water. She struggled to push herself up, but the current grabbed at her clothes, and she was too light, and the water dragged her back. 

Aurora was left softly floating in the darkness, with no idea which way was up.

 

* * *

 

“I really like camp -- it’s my life -- but I like it when it’s quiet like this too,” Mabel said, slowly taking another bite of her sandwich. The peanut butter had gone funny and the honey had soaked into the bread, but she didn’t actually mind. She was completely engrossed in the scene laid out before her. 

From her vantage point at the top of the tree, Mabel could see all the way to the empty campgrounds. Beyond that, the lake and the canoe hut. Normally, the campgrounds would be teeming with campers, but there were still two weeks left of school and so Mabel had the grounds to herself for the time being. 

Sucking peanut butter off of her fingers, Mabel hunted through her bag, fishing out a bag of chips and popping the bag. 

“Being alone really isn’t bad like, it gets a bad rap with people but it’s like,” she paused, crunching a chip. “Like you get time alone to yourself. You get to think and be alone, and that’s good for some people. I think it’s good for me.” 

The squirrel on the other branch just flicked its tail, looking at Mabel with intense curiosity. She stared back, popping another chip into her mouth. 

“You’re a really great listener, you know that?”

 

* * *

 

“Don’t ask me that!” Finn doubled over, practically crying from laughter. “Ribby, please, no. Oh my god -- don’t no.” 

Regan wiped tears from her eyes, trying to control herself. “But if you had to pick! Fuck, Marry, Kill for Obama, Trump, and Abraham Lincoln.” 

“Why Abraham Lincoln?!” 

“He’s the only American president I know!” Regan cackled. 

Finn hid his face in his hands and let out another scream of laughter. The tips of his ears were bright red, matching his curly hair. “Regan!” 

“Yes Finn!?,” she yelled back at the same volume. 

“I fucking hate you!” 

“Shhhhhthbhh no you don’t,” Regan giggled, wobbly getting to her feet. “I’m getting a drink and when I get back you’re going to -- you’re going to have your mind ready.” 

Finn took a deep breath, calming his laughter. “Get me a soda.” 

“A soda for the baby.” 

“That’s me.”

 

* * *

 

“I’ve got a fear that when I drink, I’m not going to wake up,” Regan slurred. “I wanna wake up but I afraid.” 

Finn just continued to pet Regan’s hair. She’d managed to wrap herself into a burrito and had her head laying in his lap, occasionally rolling over to get more comfortable. 

“You’re okay. I’m here. This is why you invite me over.” Finn reassured her. 

“But -- but what if you go to the bathroom, and by the time you get back, I’ll have died just like -- blugh, oh no, I’ve died.” Regan made a choking noise, her face crumpling up like she was about to cry before dissolving into giggles. 

“You’re drunk.” 

Regan just giggled harder, trying to sit up. Finn fought to keep from laughing as he pulled Regan back down. She didn’t resist, just flopping back and bursting out into another round of laughter. 

“Oh noooo. I’m too drink -- drunk. I drinked too much. Oh no.” Regan’s giggles tapered off into genuine concern. Rolling over, she buried her face into Finn’s soft sweatshirt. “Okay. I’m sobering up now.” 

“Just like that?” 

Regan was silent. With one hand on her back, Finn could feel her breathing beginning to slow down. Even though her thick pullover, Finn could feel that she was burning up. Regan was always the type that was hot to the touch, but when she was drinking, she was practically an oven. 

“I’m just taking my eyes a minute to….” she trailed off, taking a deep breath and blowing it into Finn’s sweater. “Night, little bb.” 

Finn just rolled his eyes. “Night, Ribby.”

 

* * *

 

As her hand broke through the surface, she saw moonlight for the first time. Her cage had been made out of darkness and silence -- her only company had been the intermittent feeling of bugs across her skin, or the muted sound of rain on the surface far above her. She didn't have a concept of time -- she didn’t have a concept of anything other than being in that dark, earth tomb -- but for the first time, she felt something new. 

With her exposed hand, she ripped away at the loose dirt until she could stick her head out of the hole, then her shoulders and wings, and finally she was able to pull her emaciated form out of the earth, collapsing onto the wet grass. 

A cool wind blew over her dirt-caked feathers. It had rained recently, and the grass was slippery underneath her hands as she ran her hands over it, equal parts mesmerized and horrified. She’d only ever known the cold smoothness of pebbles and the grit of dirt, but now-- 

She tried to lift her head and see her surroundings.The silver moonlight stabbed at her eyes and she squinted until a cloud covered the sky, bringing everything back into a manageable darkness. Looking back, she saw the hole that she had crawled out of, and the twisted roots of the tree that rose up around it. She had to crane her neck to see the top, which seemed so impossible that it made her dizzy to look at. 

‘Yew,’ she realized. ‘It’s a yew tree.’

 

* * *

 

Felix reached his hand into the icy cold water, grabbing Selma by her collar and dragging her back to the surface. “You’re not done yet.” 

P-please,” she wheezed, water dribbling out of her mouth. “S-s-stop.”

Her teeth were chattering so hard that they sounded like they might break. Her lips were a pale blue, and her eyes had taken on a glazed look as she tried to focus on Felix. Though she was being held up, her arms continued to weakly try to paddle forward toward shore. 

“You haven’t learned your lesson yet,” Felix said coldly. “Elijah, row us back out.”

Reluctantly, Elijah turned the dingy back toward the open ocean. Felix kept one arm out of the boat, making sure that Selma didn’t slip back under the water. The ocean was calm, and the only sound was that of the oars gliding through the water, and the screaming of distant gulls. 

Felix let go of Selma’s collar, wiping his hands off on his pants as he watched Selma weakly struggle back to shore. “You’re a good kid, Elijah. You wouldn’t steal from the Drowned Rats.” 

Underneath his heavy coat, Elijah shivered at Felix’s tone. “No.” 

Felix’s head snapped back, pinning Elijah with a look. “No, what?” 

“N-no sir.” 

Elijah held his breath as Felix slowly turned back to watch as Selma’s head dipped underneath the water. Her hands weakly pushed at the water's surface, trying to pull herself back up for air. She kicked, coming up for one last gasp before sinking again, her pale hands falling out of sight and disappearing into the inky darkness.

“Get the rope,” Felix commanded, standing up. “We’ll have to drag her back in.”

 

* * *

 

Albee’s writing paused. Their body language remained completely neutral. The few bees that were idly circling around Albee alighted on the desk, their antennae twitching. “Pardon me, but I don’t think I heard you right. What did you want?” 

“I want to go to the human universe,” Bailey said. “I don’t there’s nothing going for me here. At least there, I could take a break. Maybe relax a bit--” 

“I can’t begin to tell you how bad of an idea that is,” Albee interrupted. 

Bailey flinched back, their braids shrinking reflexively, but their voice was still resolute. “I’ve done my research--”

“It’s wrong.” 

“--and I know that I could do it,” Bailey finished, determined. “I know you’ve done it before.” 

Albee’s attention flicked to the cracked office door. With a shift of one skeletal finger, the door swung closed. Their hum had taken a definite shift, something low and dangerous. “Tell me, where did you hear that?”

**Author's Note:**

> There's a lot of OC's here, so here's a summary and the universe that they're from: 
> 
> Bonnie, Dria, Andrés, Pagur Ban (Pan-Pan) -- Arcane Distillery (previously known as the cultistverse, or the saintsverse). Two murderous roommates caught in a game of cat and mouse that continues to loop again and again, thanks to an ungrateful god taking the form of their cat and one of them being possessed.
> 
> The Traveler, The Spiderling ("The Mother"), Silas Stone, Tag, Mother Dynah, Malaii -- S4 Universe. Largest OC universe about myths and how different stories intersect. Semi-fantasy universe. 
> 
> Ronnie, Agnes, Prim -- friend's OC's from a multi-OC RP. 
> 
> Aurora, Floss, Mabel -- 80/20 universe. It's basically "hey what would happen if when animal shapeshifters had kids, the traits just got mashed together so you got a flamingo-dalmation-moth-rooster form?" and then add a totalitarian government. 
> 
> Finn and Regan -- Apocalypse Universe. Pretty self-explanatory, but there's a virus killing people. You wouldn't be able to tell by the amount of platonic fluff I write for these two though. 
> 
> Unnamed OC with the wings -- friend's OC, without a name on purpose 
> 
> Felix -- twitter.com/SpeedyDoggo , his OC from a mafia AU 
> 
> Albee and Bailey -- Object Head universe. Every OC is an object head that (when compared to humans) has deity-like powers. Going to the human universe is banned, but it happens anyway.
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
> and yeah that's it! I mostly just wanted to get myself out of a writing funk. Kind of realized that I have all of these OC's and drabbles and then just....never anything to show for it....which sucks because I honestly want to see how much I've grown over the year. So, here's me starting to post whatever I write, even if it's just a whole bunch of drabbles.


End file.
